Ghosts
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: A ghost from Tony's past returns to terrorize NCIS.
1. A Nasty Shock

A/N: This is in response to a challenge from SciFiGirl1. Hope you like it!

"Whaddaya got, Duck?" The words, so familiar, were strangely comforting. Gibbs was back. He would argue that he'd never been gone, but the team knew better. He hadn't really been with them since Ari had come into Autopsy. Now, with Ari dealt with, Gibbs was back.

"It's not pretty. This one," Ducky indicated the body on the right, "has been identified. Marine First Lieutenant Daniel Johnson. He was apparently stabbed in the gut, just below the ribcage, and...gutted," Ducky accompanied his speech with a small reenactment. "Quite unfortunately, this was done pre-mortem."

"Is that what killed him?"

"Eventually, yes. But it's more complicated than that. Before he was disemboweled, the poor man had his eyes gouged out, his feet sliced to ribbons, and his nose cut nearly off his face."

"Rage or ritual, Duck?"

"Apparently ritual. This was all done very deliberately. The killer didn't do anything that would kill the lieutenant before he was done. The strange part is, the killer was extremely careful not to interfere with identification. The hands are completely intact, except for chafing where he was tied. He was found with his dog tags on him. It's as if the killer wanted us to know who he was."

"Thanks, Duck. What about the other one?"

"Ah," Ducky moved over to the other table. "He hasn't been identified yet. Almost identical to the other fellow, except his fingers were cut off. This one wasn't supposed to be identified."

"DNA?"

"Abby's running it now. So far, no hits."

"Ducky," Tony broke in for the first time. His voice was oddly strained. "Does he have a tattoo on the back of his neck?"

Ducky gave him a strange look. "Why, yes. It's an -- "

"Eagle. With cuffs in one claw and a gun in the other." Tony was definitely not looking good now.

"Yes," Ducky said curiously. "How did -- "

"Hey, DiNozzo, you okay?" Gibbs interrupted, noticing Tony's face. Tony tried to nod, but suddenly ran from the room. They heard him retching outside and followed quickly, worried.

"Tony!"

"Tony?"

"DiNozzo!"

Tony turned, wiping his mouth. Trying unsuccessfully to mask the anguish and embarrassment on his face, he spoke in a hoarse voice. "His name is Jim Foley. He," he took a ragged breath. "He was my partner. In Baltimore."

"Oh, Tony." Ducky was the first to speak. "I'm so sorry."

Kate was slower to recover from the shock. "Tony, I'm...sorry."

Gibbs, ever taciturn, settled for a consoling clap on the shoulder. Tony gave a small nod of thanks to each, clearly struggling not to break down.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Gibbs reassumed command. "DiNozzo, I want you to take the rest of the day off." Giving Tony a look to silence his protests, he continued. "I want you to go home and rest. Do not drink. And then I want you to come back in the morning. You got that?"

"But, boss -- " Tony made one last half-hearted attempt at protest.

"No buts, DiNozzo. That was not a suggestion. Go. Now."


	2. Friendly Ghosts

Tony sat in the darkened apartment, his thoughts swirling in his head like the drink in his hand. Faces came and went; ghosts spoke to him from the depths. Jim was there of course, his death still not fully comprehended. A shadowy face, laughing at him from a great distance. And _she _was there.

The sight of her face brought a lump to his throat. She was as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps even more so. His brain mercifully blocked the memory of the last time he had seen her; naked, maimed, dead. He did not recall any of that now. He only saw her as she had been in the best years. Beautiful, smart, funny, and with a laugh that was music to his ears.

"Tony," she called softly. That was the final straw. Hearing her voice again brought tears to his eyes and they fell, tracking down his face and dripping on his shirt. "Tony, don't cry." She reached out to stroke his cheek, her blue eyes asking him what was wrong.

"Jim...he's dead," he explained.

"I know," she smiled reassuringly. "But you don't have to cry."

"It's the same one," he said darkly. "The one who came after you."

"Find him, Tony. Or your soul will never be at rest." And she was gone.

Tony was left in a darker mood than before, though her apperance had lifted his heart briefly. Now he knew how Gibbs felt about Ari. He would find the bastard, just like he had before. He would find him, and this time he wouldn't hand him over to the legal system. He would personally make sure the man didn't have another victim. Ever.


	3. Another Body

"Good morning!" Tony sang out as he swaggered to his desk. Kate looked at Gibbs. He, too, wore a worried expression, though his was not as obvious as Kate's. This was not the same despondent Tony who had left yesterday. Though he appeared to be his usual flirtatious self, Kate saw the signs of something far darker behind his eyes.

"How are you, Tony?" she asked cautiously.

"Fine, fine. You?" he replied airily, but behind his faux cheery voice Kate clearly heard his message: No questions.

"Good, I guess," she replied hesitantly.

"How far did you guys get yesterday?" he asked.

"Not far," Kate answered. Gibbs was not talking; he was watching Tony, albeit surreptitiously, with a wary eye. "All we know is they were dumped. Abby says they were killed two separate places and Ducky confirmed that the blood patterns at the crime scene aren't consistent with their wounds. Other than that...the killer was too careful. He's a pro."

"You got that right," Tony muttered under his breath. Kate opened her mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean, but the phone interrupted her with a shrill ring.

"Gibbs...Okay...We'll be right there." As Gibbs hung up, Kate would have bet money on what he was going to say next. "Grab your gear. We've got another one."

Gibbs drove as a man possessed. Though frightened almost out of her wits, Kate found this comforting. He hadn't driven past the speed limit since Ari had entered their lives. She was about to comment on this fact to Tony but was stopped by his ashen face. For all his exuberance, he was still clearly hurting.

A police officer met them as they came screeching into the scene. "Agent Gibbs?" After Gibbs' curt nod to the affirmative, the officer continued. "Sergeant Valdez. Guy was out joggin' this morning when he found 'em. It ain't pretty."

He motioned for them to follow as he walked toward a crowd of people. There were several civilians, a few reporters, and a few severely outnumbered policemen trying to stay between them and the crime scene. The Valdez ducked under the ubiquitous crime-scene tape, leading them to a more secluded area. He was right; the sight was not pretty.

A Navy lieutenant (j.g.) lay in full uniform, placed in a strangely natural position. It was almost as if he had simply fallen asleep. Almost. His nose was missing, and where his eyes should have been were two gaping holes. His shirt was soaked in blood from an abdominal wound, though there was no hole in the shirt. After snapping several photos, Gibbs carefully removed one of his shoes. As he'd suspected, the lieutenant's feet were mutilated almost beyond recognition.

"We've got dog tags," Kate called from the head. Gibbs only grunted.

"You said the jogger found 'them'?"

"Yeah. The other guy looks even worse. He's over there," Valdez pointed. Tony went to check it out.

The body looked almost identical to the lieutenant's, but for two very significant details. He was stark naked and his fingers were missing. Tony took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then set to taking pictures and measurements. Photographing the head, something caught his attention. Cautiously turning the head, he swallowed heavily as his terrible suspicion was confirmed. A dark mole on the now-pale face, paired with the scar on the left shoulderblade, told him all he needed to know.

"Boss," Tony rasped. "There's something really weird going on here."

Gibbs came over, a question on his face. "What is it?"

"This is Greg Naysmith," Tony exhaled. "My partner in Philly."

Gibbs looked alarmed at this piece of information, though he quickly hid it. Reassuming control, he asked uncharacteristicly gently, "Tony, do you know anything about these murders?"

Tony hesitated. How much should he tell Gibbs? Did he even really know for sure it was _him_? After all, what proof did he have? He decided to wait. "No, boss," he replied, trying to sound innocent. He couldn't look Gibbs in the eye as he said it, though, and he knew that Gibbs knew he was lying. It killed him to lie to Gibbs, but he didn't have a choice. No one knew about his past and he wanted it to stay that way. If he got the proof, he would tell Gibbs right away.


	4. The Pattern Continues

Tony stared at the file, his eyes seeing the words but his mind not registering them. Running a hand through his hair, he realized he was shaking. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, but it didn't help. His hands were - no, his whole body was - trembling violently. He felt the blood drain from his face and his body begin to detach from his brain. Kate looked up just in time to see Tony slide from his chair onto the ground. Racing to his side, she checked his breathing and pulse. A strong pulse, shallow breathing.

"Tony! Tony!" she called, wondering what exactly she should do.

"Kate, what the hell happened?" Gibbs rounded the corner and saw her tending to an unconcious Tony.

"I think he passed out," she explained, unsure of whether to laugh or worry. Given the circumstances, she guessed the latter would be more appropriate.

"Get his head down," Gibbs ordered, taking charge. That done, the blood quickly returned to Tony's head. He struggled slowly to sit up, helped by Gibbs and Kate. After they explained briefly what had happened, he climbed unassisted into his seat, embarrassed. He made a show of getting back to work, but that didn't fool Gibbs.

"DiNozzo, have you been eating?" he demanded.

"Boss, I've been busy..." Tony offered weakly. Gibbs' blazing eyes clearly said that wasn't good enough. Tony sighed. The truth was, he hadn't been able to keep anything down for the past week.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs started harshly, then softened. "Tony, I've seen agents burn out for less. You gotta keep your strength up."

"Yes, boss," Tony agreed resignedly. He was saved further reproach by the shrill ring of the phone.

"Gotta change that damn ring," Gibbs muttered as he strode to his desk. "Gibbs...Yeah...I see...Be right there." He let the phone dangle off his fingers for a few seconds before dropping into the cradle. He looked at Tony carefully as he announced the obvious. "There's another one."

Tony's eyes flashed briefly with something akin to fear but he masked it quickly with a look of grim determination. This surprised Gibbs; that was _his_ trademark move. Tony was normally so transparent...but these were not normal times, he reminded himself. What Tony was going through was enough to make anyone crazy with grief. It was to Tony's credit that he was still sane. And yet, Gibbs knew, he was hiding something. Something important. Gibbs sensed a personal connection to this case beyond even his relationship with the victims. He wasn't pushing yet because he wanted to let Tony deal with whatever demons he was harboring and come clean of his own volition.

When they reached the crime scene, Tony approached a police officer. The officer pointed; Tony nodded and headed that way directly, though with obvious foreboding. Gibbs watched as Tony bent over the civilian body, checking for identifying marks. He visibly sagged, as if someone had let the air out of him. Gibbs knew then; he didn't even need Tony's anguished nod to tell him.

"Hal Moore," Tony whispered. "Peoria."

"Tony," Gibbs said quietly, pulling him away from the scene. "What aren't you telling me?"

Tony started to bluster, say he didn't know what Gibbs was talking about, but Gibbs stopped him with a look. Tony knew he had to tell Gibbs. He would understand better than anyone. And so Tony told him everything.


	5. Close Call

"It was my last case in Baltimore," Tony began. "There was a serial killer on the loose. He tortured and killed seven people before we figured out who he was and two more before we could catch him. He got the chair. These," Tony indicated the general area. "Are really close."

"Copycat?"

"I don't know. I mean, they seem too much like him to be a copycat, but obviously it can't actually be him." Tony seemed to be talking more to himself than to Gibbs.

"What does your gut say?"

"It's him."

Gibbs nodded. "I'm putting a watch on you. You don't leave your house until we catch him."

"No!" Tony burst out vehemently. "I want him, Gibbs."

"I understand that, DiNozzo, but - "

"Gibbs, if Morrow had told you to sit on your hands after Ari got away, what would you have done?" Tony's point hit home like a flaming arrow. Gibbs wondered briefly if Tony had any idea how much he'd just revealed about his relationship to the killer.

"Fine. But I'm still having someone keep an eye on you." Gibbs' tone left no room for argument and Tony nodded reluctantly. Gibbs lowered his voice another notch. "DiNozzo, do you have any idea who he might be going after next?"

Tony considered the question for a moment. "It looks like he's working backwards, going after the people closest to me during each time period. Before Peoria was college. College roommate, maybe?"

"Okay. Call him up. Warn him. He live in the area?"

"I think he's in Boston."

"Good. I'll have McGee stake out his house. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Soon as we catch this bastard."

"Talk to me, Duck."

"Yes, well," Ducky began. "They were almost certainly all killed by the same person. All of their hands and feet were bound and most are fairly bruised, indicating a good struggle."

"Well, yeah, Duck. Someone was cutting me up, I think I'd be struggling, too."

"Indeed. The killer is probably a male, and a large one at that, because he was able to subdue three military and three law-enforcement personnel. That's not easy. They're all trained and most carry weapons. Our boy is extremely professional. He knows when and where to strike, obviously, and we've already discussed the incredible precision he uses to maximize their suffering. You know, the Chinese were some of the first to develop torture methods. Their capacity for both grace and brutality is fascinating - "

"Thanks, Ducky," Gibbs threw over his shoulder as he left. Ducky seemed almost surprised to hear him, as if he had forgotten he was there.

"Hey, McGee, this was a good idea," Abby grinned. Her date smiled back nervously, unsure of just how much trouble he would get in if anyone found out.

"Well," he cautioned. "We have to be careful. I'm supposed to be watching this guy's house, so if anything happens it's my fault."

"Of course," Abby replied cheerfully. The truth was, she just wanted to come on a stakeout. She rarely got to do anything in the field.

They settled in for a long, dull night. It was a quiet street with few passing cars, making even a kid on a bike fascinating for the few seconds he was in view. They passed a bag of chips and some jumbo CatPows back and forth, trying to stay alert.

McGee, despite his best efforts, dozed off just after two. Abby's eyelids were starting to feel heavy when something caught her attention. A car pulled into the driveway they were watching. A black-clad figure exited the car silently, cleverly not closing the car door. Abby's analytical brain figured he must have disabled the lights somehow, because neither his brake lights nor the inside lights were lit. This guy was a pro.

Excited now, and not wanting to wake McGee, Abby crept out of the car as quietly as possible. Slinking along the side of the house after the suspect, she was glad she favored black. She watched as he examined a window at the back of the house. It was catching up to her that she couldn't just stand there and watch; she had to do something. Realizing that her exuberance might have overridden her common sense for a while, she started backing away. She would go get McGee and move in with preparation. And a weapon.

Focussed intently on the perp, she didn't see where she was walking. A twig snapped and the sound exploded in the silent night. The black figure swung around, looking for the offendor. Spotting Abby fairly quickly, he set upon her before she could react. A hand found her mouth and she gagged as his arm circled her neck.

_Oh, no you don't_, she thought, suddenly angry at the man. Calling on self-defense lessons (and impromptu lessons from her brother), she bit the man's hand. He jerked it away, though without loosening his hold on her neck. Grabbing the arm that held her, Abby threw her weight into it in an attempt to dislodge him from her back. It would have worked, but he was much heavier than she expected. Finally going for the old self-defense standby, she set up her aim and...kicked. Hard.

He crumpled, pulling her down as he sagged to the ground. She wriggled out of his grip easily now that he was - preoccupied - and stood over him threateningly. She didn't see any tell-tale bulges in his skintight jumpsuit, indicating that he wasn't packing. That was good, she supposed, but it left her with fewer options. How could she hold him? She decided that a well-aimed foot, poised just above him, might help him think twice about trying to run.

"What do you want?" she demanded, not caring that it sounded cliche. He was stubbornly silent. Abby raised her foot threateningly and, to her satisfaction, saw his eyes widen slightly in fear. He still wouldn't talk, though. So Abby brought her foot down.

"Freeze!" yelled a familiar voice. Her balance thrown off, Abby staggered slightly as her foot fell a foot from her target. Taking advantage of the momentary lapse, the suspect struggled to his feet and ran to his car. A confused McGee, unsure in the dark of which black-clad figure was his charge, stood pointing his weapon at Abby.

"McGee, put it down!" she yelped. "He's getting away!" McGee obediently holstered his pistol and ran after the car but it was far too late. The car rounded a corner at the end of the street and was gone.

"Gibbs is going to kill me."


	6. Resolutions

"Tony, Kate," Gibbs grabbed their attention. "Will he go back?" Neither had to ask what he meant.

"Yes," they answered together. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"You agree. Call the press," he quipped. "Why?"

Tony spoke first. "He failed, and he doesn't like to fail."

"He has a need to finish what he started," Kate elaborated, employing her profiling skills. "And to maintain his pattern."

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully. "Then we wait for him."

The figure crept along the side of the house, keeping to the shadows, virtually invisible. There were no unfamiliar cars around this time; he had checked. No strange women popping out of nowhere to foil him. This time he would succeed.

Sliding the master bedroom window open, he crawled through the window like a cat. Pausing just inside, he listened for any noise that would indicate he was compromised. Nothing. It was silent...too silent. There were no deep-breathing noises, he noticed. No rustling of sheets. The room was empty. Well, not quite.

"We meet again," a voice called softly from the shadows as Tony stepped into view.

The man's face twisted into a perverse grin. This was the moment he had been working for. "You found me." His voice was not unpleasant; he probably could have sung tenor in a church choir had he been so inclined.

"Yeah. Why'd you do it?"

The man laughed. It was an eerie sound, like the howling of wind through a canyon but without the natural awe such a sound inspires. It was completely devoid of any feeling. "You got in my way," he explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You needed to be taught a lesson."

"And the six people you killed?"

"Seven," the man corrected without missing a beat. "There's a Marine second lieutenant in my trunk. What about them?"

Tony was surprised to find that this information didn't upset him. All he felt now was a cold, quiet anger. "They didn't deserve to die like that. What did they ever do?"

"They didn't _do_ anything. They were just a convenient way to get to you."

"Why the officers?"

"Oh, come on. I'm sure you figured that one out. They kept your team on the case."

"Why the torture?"

"Torture is such a strong word. I prefer to think of it as...experimentation. Did you notice how clean these ones were? Not like last time. I've learned." The man had the gall to sound proud of himself. Tony couldn't bear it any more.

"I'm not letting you off easy this time," he warned, his voice steady and cold. "I don't know how you got out, but I'm not letting it happen again."

"Aw, rookie cop like you? How cute, you want to play cops and robbers. Go ahead." The man's voice changed dramatically from teasing to threatening like the flick of a switch. "Take your best shot."

Tony did not need to be told twice. He drew his weapon and aimed, but did not fire. The man laughed again.

"I knew it. You can't shoot me; you've got a conscience. That's something I've never had to worry about," he mused. Smirking at Tony, he added, "That girl of yours was something."

His chest exploded in a cloud of red. Looking vaguely surprised, he fell to the ground in a heap. Tony stood over him, pistol still aimed, his face impassive but his heart a mess.

"Her name was Angela," he hissed to the dying man. "And I loved her."

"Tony, take the rest of the day off," Gibbs ordered. Ignoring Tony's objections, he continued, "Go home and eat something."

"Boss, I - "

"DiNozzo, I am not asking you!" Gibbs snarled. "I'll walk you out." Grabbing Tony by the arm, Gibbs steered him to the elevator.

"Tony, listen to me," he muttered, gentler now. "You ever need to talk about it, let me know."

"Boss...thanks," Tony said awkwardly. Gibbs grunted.

"Just rest," he advised again. "And don't drink."

Tony nodded and got in the elevator. He didn't want to think right now.

He spoke to them again that night for what he knew would be the last time. It was good to see their faces, whole and undefiled.

"Tony," she said, her voice a breath of fresh air. "You did good."

"Thanks," he replied, weak with longing. "It doesn't feel like it."

"That's good. If you didn't feel that, you'd be just like him."

"Then why does it hurt so much?"

"Because you can love, Tony. And you have loved. That's what makes you human. And that's what got you through."

"I'm not going to see you again, am I?"

She laughed. "I'll be there whenever you think of me. But you don't need me anymore."

"I'll miss you."

"I know. Goodbye, Tony."

"It would have been a great wedding," he called as she faded. He was sure he heard the faint echo of her laughter.

He was alone now. The case was solved. The ghosts were gone.


End file.
